Memories
by Erik deSoir
Summary: A daughter looking back on her parents's relationship.


Title: Memories

Author: Erik deSoir

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters belong to J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros. and to various publishers including but not limited to Scholastic Books, Raincoat Books, and Bloomsbury Books. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended. wails

Pairing: HD, of course, my favourite!

Warning: None, really

Note:

I received an email that had been forwarded to me. It contained a list of things a group of 4-8 year-olds said about what love means. I was inspired to write a story for each one:

"Love is when you kiss all the time. Then when you get tired of kissing, you still want to be together and you talk more. My Mommy and Daddy are like that. They look gross when they kiss" Emily - age 8

I grew up with the world watching me. Everyone knew when I took my first steps and everyone knew when my first boyfriend dumped me. It was really hard having so many eyes on me at once. During my teenager years I was tempted to lash out and behave badly to give them something to really read about. I didn't, of course, because of my fathers.

Oh, my fathers. What can I say about them? I am proud to be their daughter. They who have given me so much more than I ever realized; there are not enough words to praise them.

Yes, we were watched, but they never let that get in between us. Sure, they had their fights, but they were so insignificant in the bigger picture. They loved each other with everything they had. They still do, and it's beautiful. I have always felt their love for me and for one another growing up. I think that's what made everything work. I honestly don't think any of us would have made it this far without that.

Many people, I'm sure, think I grew up a spoiled princess. I am, after all, my fathers' daughter. But I didn't. I mean, yes, I am certain I got more than the average child. However, I didn't get every single thing I ever wanted. I was taught to work for what I wanted just like everyone else. Daddy made sure of that. He said I wouldn't appreciate it nearly as much if it had just been given out of hand. Papa always scoffed at that, but didn't say anything otherwise.

My childhood is filled with memories of them together. Daddy and Papa taking me to the park, to the zoo, to the aquarium, to Grandma and Grandpa's, playing with me in the garden, chasing me down the hallways, sitting on the couch and rehashing their memories. In each and every memory I can see them sitting next to each other, touching somehow. It's like they couldn't function without a hand or leg touching. I always smile thinking about it.

I remember the first time I caught them kissing. I was about five and it was Valentine's Day. We had celebrated that day by turning all the rooms shades of red and pink. That was my idea, of course. Daddy laughed at it before scooping me up and saying, "Anything you want!" Papa planned a scavenger hunt for me. I went from room to room to room and found pretty trinkets for my hair and candies and bracelets. I even found a rose. I remember I wore it in my hair because it matched my red dress. Papa just smiled at me when he saw it and said I looked like a fairy princess. That night all our food was red. I found it hilarious and couldn't stop giggling at the red potatoes in the shape of hearts.

After Daddy put me to bed, I fell asleep for a little while. I woke later to a loud thump outside my room. It scared me so I climbed out of bed to run into my Daddy and Papa's but stopped short just outside my door. There they were, Daddy had Papa pressed against a wall with his hands all over my Papa's body. At first I thought Daddy was hurting Papa, but realized differently when I heard Papa's low laugh. I couldn't move, I could only stare.

And then Papa said, "We need to be quiet. I don't want to wake her."

Daddy laughed softly and said, "Better put silencing charms up, then." Papa just smirked like he always did and said something I didn't hear.

I went back into my room by that time. I was getting sleepy again and knew it was them that made the noise that scared me. Besides, they were being gross.

I always laugh about that memory of them in the hallway. I really thought it was gross. How wrong I was. Now that I am a little older, I can see that desire they still held for each other, even with a five-year-old daughter.

Now it's me with my daughter visiting Pappy and Papaw. They spoil her the way my grandparents did me, and I wonder what memories my daughter will look back on and smile.


End file.
